


not enough

by buttercupp



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Impostor Syndrome, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sickfic, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, yeah peter has it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 06:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercupp/pseuds/buttercupp
Summary: “I had them! And I was kinda standing my ground! It’s fine!” Peter argued.“It is not fine!” Tony yelled. “You almost died Peter!”(no endgame spoilers)





	not enough

Many things happened to Peter when he got bitten by that spider. He could climb stuff and was super strong, (Which he found out long before that airport fight — That same day he got bitten by that spider was the same day that he stopped that bus from hitting those children, but that’s another story.). He’s fast, which translates to his reflexes too, he’s durable, and has crazy high stamina. For example, he could last getting punched in the face repeatedly by the average, or even a tad above average, person and heal relatively fast, not that he would let that happen.

 

Unless something was... hindering him. 

 

What he did not gain, was resilience to the common woes of being a human, like the most obvious — getting injuries. They’d heal fast, but he had always been jealous of the fact that Steve or Bucky could take many, _many_ punches  without getting a broken nose. They didn’t even get sick or get headaches, and they could probably stay awake for 50 years if they wanted. 

 

Peter was sick and horribly sleep deprived, and lacking all The Perks of Being A Super Solider.

 

That probably explained why he was repeatedly getting punched in the face at the moment.

 

Even though Peter knew he was not in the best condition to be doing _anything_ with  the terrible head cold he had, he decided to go out on patrol anyways. Because, honestly he’d rather be anywhere than be stuck in an apartment alone, and doing nothing, on a Friday night. 

 

He’d left the house at around five and patrol had been going on, as usual, helping people with some mundane tasks from around the neighborhood, the occasional mugging, etcetera. It was pretty calm until the city started getting darker and more people came out in the night looking to cause trouble. 

 

Peter knew he was sick, he was gonna go back home, he really was! Until, Karen alerted him of some particularly suspicious activity on a rooftop, and now Peter is in the rain, nine o’clock at night, unsuccessfully blocking rapid hits, that to him, seemed to come from everywhere at once.

 

This really isn't  going to help his cold-induced misery. 

 

Peter’s aggressor landed a swift punch to his right temple and sent a shock of pain right through his head that made Peter’s movements stall. He crashed to the ballasted roof and let out a strained groan. 

 

Peter spoke up in a stinted voice, “Don’t you think this fight is a little unfair?”

 

He kicked Peter in the ribs, “I think it’s unfair that you’re interrupting _my_ work , kid. Stay down this time, would you?.” The man said and turned, leaving Peter on the ground behind him. 

 

“I’ll think about it!”

 

Peter didn’t know his name— but he looked big and scary. 

 

His name is The Big and Scary Guy now, and The Big and Scary Guy is attempting to set off a bomb that will be pretty inconvenient to Peter, the citizens of New York, and most likely it’s surrounding states. 

 

Peter let out a dry cough and pressed his hands on the cold, wet rocks below him. 

 

Karen spoke out above the late night city traffic down below, “Peter are you okay? You seem a little... off.” Peter huffed out a laugh, 

 

“Amazing observations, Karen.” 

 

“Thank you, Peter,” The A.I. said cheerfully, and Peter rolled his eyes. “But, do you want me to alert Mr.Stark to your location?”

 

Peter managed to get onto his unsteady feet. “No, I’m okay, I can handle it.”

 

While The Big and Scary Guy was preoccupied with his contraption, Peter took a chance and raised his hand to shoot out one of those special webs to the back of the man’s head, it should knock him out. Peter held his breath and squinted his eyes at an attempt to focus his wavering vision on the man. He pressed onto the button on his hand and the web shot out. 

 

And he missed.

 

He fucking missed and his aim was way off. 

 

The man whipped around. 

 

“Uh, Karen. Is something wrong with the lenses?” Peter said. 

 

 “You fucking—“ A look of furiousness was on his face as he stalked towards Peter. 

 

Shit shit shit shit shit  shit !

 

Peter dashed forward before the man could get to him and landed an awkward, but a decent punch that took Peter, and the man by surprise. 

 

He was tired, his body hurt, but could totally do this. 

 

The man quickly retaliated and threw a punch that Peter blocked and a kick that Peter also blocked. Peter narrowly ducked and weaved through punches and attacks, and even got a few in himself. 

 

He was doing so good, considering. Perfect even, he doesn’t know why he was even worri—

 

The man landed a punch right into Peter’s diaphragm and Peter immediately doubled over as sharp pain spread around his core. He gasped, his mouth trying to let out a groan that wouldn’t come. 

 

“I wasn’t going to kill you because I didn’t want a certain someone on my ass,“

 

Bile started to rise and eat away at Peter’s throat. His senses began screaming at him and his eyes flitted up and saw what looked like a gun in the man’s hand. 

 

“But you’re being a problem for me right now so this seems like the only solution.”

 

Peter had fears, not many, but he had them. These fears weren’t petty ones, it wasn’t a, “Oh my god I am so afraid  of bugs!” Type thing, they were serious, debilitating. Peter was more so afraid of the reminders, and what those reminders would bring. Those reminders would bring up guilt that had long been  ~~pushed down~~ dealt  with and it would eat away his chest and lungs that made him cringe from the feeling and the reminder would send a quiet blow to his head that would be so fleeting he’d almost miss it. But he never did. He felt it every time it would intrude into his life. 

 

Peter couldn’t breathe, he needed to throw up and his vision was starting to vignette. Before his body could even take a break from the blow to his stomach, Peter let out a strangled scream as a second wave of pain tore through his body. Peter’s eyes were forced shut and his body tensed up. Pulsing static filled his ears, replacing the steady rainfall around him. 

 

Seconds later, Peter’s eyes opened and he was staring up at the night sky with a gun, no, _taser_ pointed  in his face. 

 

Peter lifted his head and it was promptly pushed down by the man’s wet dirty boot. 

 

“Should I send the message now, friend?” Karen said. 

 

“I dunno—no don’t.” Peter forced out.

 

Peter was roughly pulled up from the ground by his suit and was led towards the ledge of the building. The forefoot of Peter’s feet frantically dug into the ground from a backward angle as he weakly pushed his shaky hands against the man, desperately trying to keep himself from getting closer to the edge of the building. 

 

Okay, maybe he wasn’t handling it. 

 

“You know, you’ve caused a lot of trouble for me tonight.” The man said and made Peter hang off the ledge at a worrying angle. Peter clumsily grabbed onto the other man’s jacket, making futile attempts to prevent himself from leaning backward. His feet would nearly slip off the edge and rocks tumbled down behind them. 

 

How cinematic. 

 

“I think New York would say the same.” Peter’s voice shook.

 

Peter was pulled back towards the man, and his face getting uncomfortably close to Peter’s. Peter could smell the man’s warm offensive breath flowing through the mask and he subtly turned up his nose. (“You should probably brush too, man.” He said and earned himself another punch.) The world was moving even more around him and his vision was beginning to vignette as he started to lose consciousness.

 

“Y’know? I’ll enjoy telling everyone I know that I killed Spider-Man. Dealing with Flyboy will be worth it.”

 

And with that Peter was let go. 

 

The passing seconds seemed to go by so slow, but so quick at the same time. 

 

As a last resort, Peter’s hand reached out and he clumsily shot out a web. It would probably end up with him attaching to something and slamming into a wall—or a window,(preferably _through_ the  window than being stopped by it) but it’ll probably be better than hitting the ground from this height. 

 

He missed. 

 

“Delivered.” He heard Karen’s voice say.

 

So he tried again.

 

...

...

 

 

“Peter?”

 

His body hurt. 

 

“Come on Pete— wake up for me!”

 

Tony, that was Tony. 

 

Shit , it’s Tony!

 

Peter’s surroundings were beginning to become more aware to him. His mask was off. He could feel the sturdiness of metal around him and he realized he was being held, by Tony, who was walking. Peter heard glass crunch beneath the feet of the suit, the rain wasn’t falling on him anymore. 

 

Peter mumbled, “Through a window.” 

 

“Peter, are you awake?”

 

Peter forced his eyes open and was met with the steely face of the suit. They were in some abandoned warehouse and everything around them was dark, the only thing giving off light was the big ceiling windows and the glowing eyes looking down at him that seemed to chastise him on the spot.  

 

“Shit, what were you thinking kid?” Tony said softly and looked ahead. 

 

Peter lifted his head to respond, but let it fall back down. He didn’t have enough energy to say anything or to keep his eyes open. Peter let his head loll to and fro as Tony traveled down a flight of stairs.

 

“Peter?”

 

“Hm?” Peter feels the rain again and realizes they’re outside now, time is passing by fast. 

 

“I said, can you stand?”

 

“Oh. I dunno, it hurts to breathe, though.”

 

“That’s not what I asked, never mind,” Tony says and Peter hears a car door open

 

 Tony sounds kinda angry, Peter thinks as he’s placed into it front seat of the car. 

 

“I _am_ angry .” Tony retorted and Peter jumped, his eyes flew open and he found Tony sitting right beside him. He said that aloud. 

 

“How did you get in here so fast?” Peter said.

 

“Hello to you too,” Tony says. “I wasn’t in the suit, Peter. Buckle up.”

 

“W—wait! There’s, there’s a guy. He’s trying to—“

 

Tony pulled out of the lot, “Blow up all of New York? Yeah I know, taken care of. Just relax, you’re practically dying right now” The words that came out of Tony’s mouth did not accurately portray how angry he sounded. 

 

Peter groaned and sat back in the warming seats, his shoulders tense. The quiet did nothing to the tension in the car. 

 

“So, how was your day?” Peter asked. He looked over at Tony who was staring straight ahead, face hardened. He had a grip on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were turning white.

 

Tony’s jaw clenched. “Peter, I am kind of upset right now, I am not in a playful mood.” Tony said, “This isn’t a matter to play around with.” He threw an infuriated glance towards Peter.

 

Peter shifted away from his gaze and awkwardly played with his hands in his lap. He got bored of doing that so he went to go check his phone, and yeah, destroyed. The entire screen was shattered so much to the point Peter was pretty sure it was a hazard. The reason for  _how_ he  constantly broke Stark phones was beyond him. Peter let the device drop in his lap and opted to rest his head on the cool door frame instead.

 

Tony didn’t say a word the entire stormy ride from the warehouse, to the parking lot of the compound. Peter knew messed up, big time.

 

“Think you can walk now?” Tony asked. 

 

Peter looked up apologetically, “Um, maybe. My ankle kinda hurts, I think it’s from the fall.”

 

“Okay, I’ll help you,” Tony said and he got out of the car and shut the door behind him. He made his way to the passenger side and opened the door. Tony reached out his arm. “Come on,” Peter carefully moved his legs out the car. 

 

“Alright, here” Tony snakes his arm right behind Peter’s back. “Throw your arm around me.” 

 

Tony helps Peter slowly stand up out of the vehicle and they make their way towards the door and inside the compound. Peter felt awkward the whole time, he felt like shit the whole time. (“Here put your mask back on, you’re seeing one of the doctors.”) When they make it inside the elevator Peter felt bad, of course. In his eyes, he was acting pathetic, being here to gain pity points, all while using Tony.

 

They make it into the lab and one of the doctors are already there, waiting.

 

“Hey, dude! Nice to see you again, or not nice, I dunno— just, ignore me.” She gave him an awkward smile and handed Peter a plate of food, “How are you?”

 

“Could be better, I guess. I think I got a cold.”

 

She nodded, “Yeah, I’ll do a swab for that, Mr.Stark wanted me to check that out for you.”

 

When Tony helped him peel off the tattered and bloodied suit to get him into the bathtub, they both remain silent, Peter’s face burned in embarrassment but he got himself in this situation, he can deal with it. It was obvious Tony was making a conscious effort to not see anything that would just make their situation worse than it was. After Peter was settled, Tony left Peter alone to bathe in private, (“You can get Friday to call me when you’re done.”) It was said as more of a statement than a question because Peter was going to have a lot of trouble trying to get out himself. But he did anyways because he didn’t need help, he could do it. Even if he had almost fallen (two ((2)) times) and cracked his skull open on the slippery matte black tile floor all because he was trying to get his sweatpants on.

 

He’s Spider-Man, he can do it. And as angsty as it sounds. Getting help would be wasteful at this point, exploitive.

 

Peter limped from the bathroom to his room, bearing his weight on various objects along the way. 

 

The lighting was warm and the lights above were was dimmed, it was a small gesture from Friday, most likely, but it did wonders for lessening input from around him. Peter fell onto the soft queen-sized bed under him, the cool satin cover against his water-warmed skin felt calming.

 

There was a knock on the door. “Peter?”

 

Peter groaned, “Uh yeah, come in.” He sat up. 

 

Tony came in, closed the door behind him and paused, giving Peter an odd look he couldn’t discern. Tony looked around the room and decided to take residence in a rolling chair beside Peter’s bed. 

 

“I told May where you’re staying for the night, and before you ask, no I  haven’t told her about the stunt you pulled, yet.”

 

Peter nodded, “Yeah I know.“ He fiddled with a loose thread on the comforter. “Are you coming in here to talk about something serious? Because like, usually, you would just like lecture me or something.”

 

Tony gave a slight nod, “Let get right to it then, why did you go out sick?” He crossed his arms. 

 

“I dunno. I mean, I felt okay enough, so.”

 

“Soo you know how that can be dangerous. You know what happens when you get sick. Right?” Peter nodded, he knew what Tony was referring to. It was the first time Peter went on patrol when he was sick, where they both learned is not the best idea to have. “I know you haven’t forgotten that because you almost died then too.”

 

Peter flinched because, wow, that kinda hurt. “Of course I know.”

 

Tony sat forwards, “Well why did you go out?” Tony asked again.

 

“Because, because it’s just a dumb head cold!”

 

“You have the _flu_ , Peter. And I don’t care about you “being enhanced” or how it doesn’t affect you or whatever. Because you and I both know  that’s bull!”

 

“I had them! And I was _kinda_ standing  my ground! It’s fine!” Peter argued. 

“What?” An incredulous look formed on Tony’s face, “It is not _fine_ !” Tony yelled. “You almost died Peter!”

 

Peter opens his mouth to respond but Tony raises his hand. 

 

“Look, I’m not mad at you,” Tony starts, “And I’m not disappointed either. I was angry at myself for not acknowledging—“

 

“It’s not your—“

 

“For not  acknowledging ,” Tony restated, louder this time. “The fact, that you’re like me. I can see where you’re coming from, I will keep working my ass off and going on as if everything is perfectly fine even if I’m two seconds away from kicking the bucket. Now I have my own reasons for being an irresponsible dumbass, what’s yours?”

 

Peter looks away and draws his hands into his lap, silent.

 

“Pete, you need to talk because the reasons I have in my head aren’t good.” Peter stayed quiet. “You wanna know what I’m thinking?” Tony voice softened, “I’m thinking that you wanted to  die up there.” His voice was almost a whisper. 

 

Peter looked up, a look of shock on his face, “No,  no ! I— that’s not why Tony.” Peter took in a breath. “I just, wanted to prove myself and be enough. I just feel like I’m...being stupid. Like I’m faking being who I am.” He wrapped his arms around himself, leaning forward,

 

“Peter,” Tony said and Peter closed his eyes, he sounded like Aunt May. 

 

“And I feel like I can do better. I didn’t call you because I felt like I didn’t have to. Like, I didn’t need to. I was— I was fine.” He says voice cracking. He opens his eyes to Tony who is staring right at him, empathy is written all over his face. “I’m sorry I just— ugh this is stupid.” Peter rolled his eyes and rubbed away at them. 

 

“No, it’s not stupid. Expressing your emotions isn’t stupid. Not expressing them, is... uh, stupid.” Tony said, the cadence of his speech bordering on one of rambling. “Anyways, 

you think that you’re not enough?”

 

Peter nodded.

 

“How come?”

 

Peter shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know how to talk in these situations. He would try, but the sound wouldn’t even go past his mouth.

 

“Come on,” Tony says. “I need words, Pete.”

 

 Peter licked his lips and shrugged his hands. “I don’t know I just, feel this way.” Can hands shrug?

 

“Can I tell you something, give you my opinion?” Tony asked. 

 

“Please,” Peter said. 

 

“I think you‘re enough. Actually, I think you’re more than enough at times.” Tony chuckled, Remember when you came here, right after patrol with a pecan pie and I asked you where it came from and you told me an old lady gave it to because you helped her clean her house?” Tony had a fond smile on his face. “One of the proudest moments of my life. Because you didn’t have to help that woman. You were just swinging by and saw a person in need—who, may I remind you, didn’t even ask for you to help—but you did just that.”

 

“Then that other time when you had a long day at school, then later on that day the same thing with patrol. You were so relieved that you could relax for the rest of the night but  then , to my disgrace, you realized that I was up to my ass—“ Tony grimaced, he didn’t like cursing in front of Peter for no reason. “I mean neck in  a case about some shady business, in Russia. I told you— no demanded you actually, to go home. I should’ve known what you were up to because you agreed way too easily. Later that morning, you called me yelling and rambling on about how you found some new leads. I didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved.” Tony laughed. “And that’s not even all the times you’ve done me proud.”

 

Tony quirked his eyebrow, “What? That doesn’t mean anything to you?” He pushed Peter’s knee around. “Come on don’t sit in that, I know you want to smile.”

 

Peter rolled his watery eyes and pushed Tony’s hand away, giving a smile. “Yeah, I remember.” Peter sniffed, emotion thick in his voice. “I’m sorry for doing that, Tony,” Peter said.

 

“I hear you, thank you for that,” Tony says, standing up. “We’ll talk later, alright? I’ll leave you to it, see you in the morning.” 

 

“Yeah, Goodnight,” Peter said, head tilting towards the shoulder pat that Tony gives him. 

 

“Oh crap, almost forgot.” Tony felt around in his pockets then pulls out a phone. “Because you broke yours, again.”

 

“Oh crap— yeah, I forgot.” Peter took it and stood up on his good leg. “I um— thank you,” Peter says and realizes he’s gonna be taller than Tony soon. Then his brain forces the thought of Tony leaving one day, but it’s pushed down to deal with another day. 

 

“Thank you so much.” Peter hesitates, then envelopes him in a hug.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm about to go watch endgame in like 3 hours, pray for me
> 
> please leave a comment and tell me what you think! rant to me about endgame or something. it will make my day, and im gonna need it after endgame sigh. <3
> 
> edit: this movie,,,killed me


End file.
